Chapter 170
~ Clinton ~
Opening the door and seeing Annie standing there caught completely off guard. I hadn’t expected her to show up, but the mont I saw the small carton box and gift bag in her hands, it hit —today was my birthday. She had rembered, of course she had. I had been so fixated on inviting Octavia over and making the evening special for her that I had completely forgotten Annie would likely co too.
"Annie?" I said, my voice laced with surprise.
She wore a bright, hopeful smile as she held up the gifts. She opened her mouth to speak, but Octavia’s voice cut through the mont from behind .
"Annie? Is that the na of the delivery guy now?"
Annie’s smile dropped instantly. Octavia stepped forward, now standing just behind my shoulder.
"What’s going on here, Clint?" Annie asked, her gaze shifting sharply between Octavia and .
"Um..." I was montarily lost for words.
"She doesn’t look like the delivery guy, Clinton," Octavia added, her tone light but curious.
With my eyes still on Annie, I managed, "She’s not the delivery guy."
"Oh," Octavia said simply.
Annie’s eyes narrowed as recognition dawned. She glared at Octavia. "Octavia Herman?"
"Yes? Am I in trouble?" Octavia asked, looking confused as she glanced at , then back at Annie.
"Hi, I’m Annie Oakley Reagan... Clinton’s very close friend," Annie introduced herself, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
"Nice to et you, Annie. I swear I’ve heard your voice sowhere before—it sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it," Octavia said, folding her arms.
"We spoke once on the phone," Annie replied coolly, glancing at . "When you called and asked to speak with Clinton?"
"Oh yeah, now I rember," Octavia said, the mory clicking into place. "I’m sorry for not recognizing your voice right away. My mories are still a bit jumbled up sotis."
"Nah, it’s fine," Annie forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She turned back to . "Happy birthday, Clinton."
She used my full na, which imdiately told she was angry—and I had a sinking feeling I knew why.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"Here’s your birthday cake and gift," she added, still forcing that smile as she handed everything over.
I took the items slowly. "Thank you."
I set the cake and gift bag on the coffee table, the cheerful wrapping paper suddenly feeling out of place in the tense atmosphere.
"Can we talk for a mont in my bedroom, Annie? Please?" I asked.
"Sure," she replied, shooting one last look at Octavia, who stared back with innocent confusion.
"Sorry, Octavia. Excuse —I’ll be right back," I told her.
"Sure. I’ll be here," she said, sitting back down on the couch and picking up her glass of apple juice.
I nodded and followed Annie into the bedroom. The mont the door closed behind us, she turned on .
"Why is she here, Clint? I need to know."
"I invited her over for dinner," I confessed.
"You invited her for dinner? Just the two of you alone in your apartnt?" Annie’s frown deepened. "Aren’t you aware that she’s married?"
"Yes, I’m aware that she’s—"
I stopped abruptly and narrowed my eyes at her. "How do you know that Octavia is married?"
"Does it matter how I know?" she shot back.
"Yes, it does."
"I cyber-stalked her, okay? But that’s not the point," Annie said, her voice rising. "The point is you invited a married woman to have dinner alone with you in your apartnt and didn’t even bother to call today. Did you even notice that I didn’t call you all day? Did you care?"
She was right. Only now did I realize she hadn’t called once.
"I’m just noticing it now," I mumbled after a heavy silence.
"Right?" She scoffed, clearly hurt. "I purposely didn’t call you today because it was your birthday. I planned to surprise you at your apartnt. Turns out the surprise was ruined—and I was the one surprised when I saw your ’friend’ here alone with you."
"Annie, co on. You’re overthinking this," I tried to calm her. "Octavia and I are just friends. I invited her because she’s been sick and stuck at ho. I wanted to do sothing nice to cheer her up and get her out for a bit."
"But what about , Clint?! Do you even care if I’m happy? Or if I need cheering up? This is unfair!"
"I’m sorry, okay? I really am."
"No, you’re not," she shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "I’m the one putting in all the effort to make you happy, but you don’t see it. It shows that you have feelings for her."
"No, I don’t," I lied, shaking my head.
"What do you take for, Clint? A fool?" Her voice cracked. "I can clearly see that you don’t love . I thought after you apologized there might be sothing real between us, so concern, so love and care. I had hope. But coming here and seeing her with you? It proves you love her. Don’t deny it—I can see it."
"Annie—"
"What do you want to say that would make believe you don’t love the woman sitting in your living room right now? Huh?"
I opened my mouth, but no words ca out. The silence stretched between us.
"See? Even you can’t deny it," she said, jealousy and pain thick in her voice.
"I’m sorry, Annie."
"Yeah... too. Forever falling in love with you."
With that, she pushed past and stord out of the bedroom.
"Annie, wait," I called, following her.
"Don’t fucking follow !" she yelled as she marched past Octavia, who was still sitting on the couch looking surprised.
"Annie—" I stopped in the living room as the door slamd behind her.
A heavy, awkward silence filled the apartnt.
"What happened between the two of you?" Octavia asked quietly.
"It’s nothing," I replied, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"It’s nothing that I heard yelling in your bedroom and her storming out like that?" she pressed.
"It’s nothing, Octavia. Really."
She didn’t look convinced. "Maybe I should just go ho. I’ll call a taxi now."
"No, please don’t," I said quickly.
Before she could respond, the doorbell rang. Thinking it might be Annie returning, I rushed to open it. But it was only the delivery guy with our Chinese food.
"Good evening, sorry for the delay—there was heavy traffic on the main road and—"
"It’s alright. How much is the bill?" I asked, sounding more disappointed than I intended.
"Sixty dollars."
I pulled out my wallet, paid him, and closed the door.
"That was the delivery guy," I said, carrying the bags to the kitchen. "Co on, let’s eat."
Octavia walked over slowly and sat on one of the breakfast stools. "This is a lot of food."
"Which is why I’ll be joining you. Besides, it’s my birthday—this is a celebration al."
We arranged the containers on the counter: stead shrimp dumplings, moo goo gai pan, shrimp with lobster sauce, chicken fried rice, and Buddha’s delight.
"Clinton?" Octavia said after a few bites.
I turned to her.
"I know sothing happened between you and Annie in the bedroom. Is there anything you want to tell about why you two were arguing?"
I sighed and set my chopsticks down. "Annie loves ."
"She loves you?" Octavia tilted her head.
"She’s in love with —that’s what I an."
"I see."
"Since she’s in love with , she probably sees you as a threat."
"Yeah...I don’t know," I sighed.
"Do you love her?" she asked directly.
"Is Annie going to be the main topic of conversation on my birthday night?" I turned to her.
"It sounds selfish, but yes. I’m just curious."
"Fine. Yes, I love her... but I’m not in love with her."
Octavia only stared at .
"And that’s because I’m still in love with you, Octavia."
She looked down at her food. "You shouldn’t say that, Clinton."
"Why? Because you’re still married to Franklin?" I frowned.
"It’s just inappropriate."
"If it’s so inappropriate, why did you agree to co here and have dinner with ?" I snapped.
"Because it’s your fucking birthday!" she shot back, exasperated.
"Gosh, what’s with the tone?" she mumbled, sighing again.
I sighed too, playing with my chopsticks. "I’m sorry for yelling at you...I’m just—"
"Confused?" she finished for .
"I’m beginning to see that."
"Happy birthday again, Clinton. I think I should head back ho before my parents start calling nonstop."
She stood up, leaving most of her food untouched.
"Let at least drive you back," I offered, sounding genuinely remorseful.
She only shrugged.
She grabbed her coat and purse while I picked up my car keys. The drive back to her parents’ apartnt was quiet and tense.
"Thank you for driving back," she said with a small, forced smile as we arrived.
"Hey," I said, reaching over to gently take her hand.
She turned to .
"I’m sorry."
"It’s fine," she replied.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Goodnight, Clinton. Enjoy the gift I got you."
"I will. Goodnight."
She smiled faintly, then stepped out of the car. I waited until she was safely inside the apartnt before driving away.
Once again, I had hurt the two most important won in my life. Instead of feeling happy on my birthday, I felt hollow. I had fucked up—badly. Hurting Annie’s feelings again weighed heaviest on .
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